Roarke's Kingdom

Roarke’s brows rose. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it sounds like.” Her jaw shot forward. “Tell me, do you know all this because you can see it when you look down from Mount Olympus, or is it just that your watchdogs report in every hour on the hour?”

He stared at her, and then a tight smile curved across his mouth.

“Watchdogs?” he asked softly. “Is that how you would describe people who are concerned about your welfare?”

“Correction,” she said coldly. “Your welfare. After all, we all want to make certain señor doesn’t end up with a seriously injured woman on his hands. She might sue for a billion trillion dollars!”

Roarke started to tell her he’d given up that concern, but why bother? What she thought of him wasn’t his problem.

“Come on,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of the water and into dry—”

“Thank you,” she said, stepping free of his encircling arm as they reached the sandy beach, “but I’m comfortable just the way I am.” She glared at him. “What are you doing here anyway? Constancia said you wouldn’t be back until tonight.”

“How could I stay away a minute longer than necessary when I knew you were pining for my return?”

“Very funny, especially when you know the only thing I pine for is my departure from this place.”

It was hard not to laugh. She was glaring at him, hands set on her hips…But what man would laugh at the sight of her? Water was beaded on her skin; days in the sun had turned it a delicate gold. And her face…the soft-looking mouth. The high cheekbones. Those eyes, hot with fury.

In a heartbeat, he felt his body react.

It shocked him.

He had not reacted to a woman for months. His wife, his ex-wife, had left him damn near impervious to women, even to sex.

The good news? His hormones were still working.

The bad news was that if he wanted a woman in his bed, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything about it here on Isla de la Pantera. This was his world, his and Susanna’s, and that was how it was going to stay.

Anger at himself for feeling desire, at Jennifer for being the cause of it, made his next words harsh.

“Get up to the house.”

“I don’t take orders from anybody, Mr. Campbell!”

“If you want Mendoza to say you’re well enough to leave here, you’ll do what you’re told.”

“I am not an invalid. I am not your prisoner. And I am not a child.”

“No. You are most definitely not a child.”

His voice had gone low and rough. She stared at him. He stared back, and she felt a flush rise over her body.

Her swimsuit was one piece, cut for serviceability and not fashion, but she suddenly felt as if she were standing naked before him.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

She felt as if she’d touched something and got a l

ow electric shock, and when his gaze dropped a little, she felt her breasts lift, the nipples thrusting tightly against the thin nylon of her suit.

His mouth twisted. His eyes met hers. And the flame she saw there made her dizzy.

She took a quick step back. Then she spun away from him and started walking quickly up the beach.

She hadn’t got very far before he fell in beside her.